


the sexiest sinner in church

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Category: Marvel 616, Patsy Walker AKA Hellcat, She-Hulk
Genre: F/F, and let's face it: we'd all rather it hadn't, but could theoretically work with the current patsy series assuming CWII didn't happen, set somewhere around the Soule/Poulido run
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: Some creep makes a move on Patsy while she's waiting at the bar. Too bad for him, her best friend is green.





	the sexiest sinner in church

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jessicamiriamdrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/gifts).



If there’s anything quite like the intimidation factor a hulk can muster through their sheer presence, it’s the relief one particular hulk can inspire when she decides to come loom over one particular Hellcat’s shoulder.

“This guy bothering you?” Jen asks, her tone icy cold, and Patsy could _weep_.

She leans back into Jen’s comfortingly solid form, tilting her sharp little chin upwards, and hisses, “ _Yes_ ,” as she clutches one handed at Jen’s belt loops as if she could possibly hold her in place if Jen decided to abandon her after all.

Her martini sloshes in her other hand, and the guy (who’d thirty seconds ago set his hand on Patsy’s knee uninvited) gawks up at Jen as his face drains of blood comically fast. “I, uh…”

“Was _just_ leaving,” Jen informs him, and he nods frantically as he scrambles away, knocking over his bar stool in the process.

Patsy heaves a gusty sigh of relief as she pats Jen’s hip in thanks. “You’re the sexiest sinner in church, Ms. Walters.”

Jen doesn’t make a move to disentangle herself from Patsy, her shoulders straight and muscles as tense as a hunting dog who’s caught the scent of its quarry. “Who was that?”

“Just some guy who decided to get his creep on.” Patsy tosses back the rest of her martini, straightening on her stool, and wrinkles her nose. “You saved me from having to figure out a way to kick his ass without looking like I knew how to kick his ass.”

“Happy to be of service,” Jen says darkly, but when Patsy shoots her a confused look, she manages what’s almost a smile and hooks the fallen stool with one foot, flicking it back upright and taking her seat.

Angry looks good on her–so does the lighting in this bar, making her emerald skin glow and sharpening the lines of the muscles shown off by her simple black tank top. Patsy swallows heavily and waves down the bartender.

“Two more martinis,” she requests, trying to ignore Jen’s knee brushing against hers. It’s embarrassingly cliche, right? To be bisexual and in love with your best friend?

At least she never had a thing for Hedy, she lies to herself, and resists the urge to bang her head against the counter.

“Sorry I was late,” Jen offers, still visibly attempting to shake off the previous encounter, and Patsy scoffs.

“No big deal,” she promises, reaching out to squeeze Jen’s forearm. “I don’t mind waiting for you.” Tone it _down_ , Walker. “Just means you owe me an extra round of drinks!”

Nailed it.

Jen laughs and reaches for her martini with her free hand, letting Patsy’s palm remain resting gently on bare skin. “What do you think I’m made of, money?”

Patsy twirls the little black straw around in her glass, and a smirk tugs at the corners of her lips as she drawls out, “Well…”

“Do not make a green joke.”

“But it’s just so _easy_.” Patsy tips her head back, laughing, and Jen joins in just a heartbeat out of sync.

That feeling doesn’t go away for the rest of the night–they sip their martinis and banter and gossip and patently do not discuss either their work at Jen’s law office or their extra-curricular work, and on the surface it’s all fine. But there’s a tension in the air, a sense that Jen’s got something else on her mind, that Patsy can’t quite shake.

Not that she tries too hard; she’s made a crime fighting career off trusting her own instincts.

“Are you okay?” she finally asks as they wander down a dark street, secure in the knowledge that there’s no one in New York nuts enough to try to tangle with She-Hulk just for the sake of a mugging. There’s just a bit of bite to the air, a signal that summer’s almost over, and Patsy’s got her jean jacket tugged tight around her torso.

Jen doesn’t seem to feel the chill, but she wraps an arm around Patsy’s shoulders to keep her warm anyway. She blows out a breath, something almost rueful in her tone as she says, “Just thinking.”

“About that guy?” Patsy asks, bemused.

“About the fact that just terrifying him wasn’t nearly as satisfying as kicking his ass would have been.” Jen laughs, but she still sounds off. “Not that I could have punched him without opening myself up to a lawsuit, probably. He was just a normal guy.”

“You could have held him in place and let me do it,” Patsy snickers. “I could have made a real show of having bad form but still managing to get some force behind it.” She lets go of her jacket to make a couple jabs at the air, purposefully keeping her elbows too wide and catching Jen in the ribs in the process.

“Why are we friends, again?” Jen complains, lowering her arm slightly from Patsy’s shoulders and tugging her more firmly into her side, effectively immobilizing her arms.

Patsy squawks indignantly. “Jen!”

“Don’t be a brat, Patsy.”

“Never once in my life,” she mutters petulantly, and Jen’s surprised laugh splits the night–across the street, a guy nearly drops the phone he’d been engrossed in, he flinches so hard in surprise.

“You’re an idiot,” Jen tells her, voice teasing and fond, and Patsy slouches sideways into her. Jen doesn’t even sway to the side; Patsy really, really wishes that didn’t turn her on.

Alternatively, she wishes she was drunk enough to actually tell Jen that it did.

“Next time I’ll try to get hit on by somebody with super strength, so you guys can properly brawl for my companionship,” she says instead, because she may not be drunk, but she is just a bit tipsy. “Think Luke Cage is game?”

“Do you wanna have to fight Jessica while I fight Luke?” Jen asks, amused, and Patsy makes a face.

“Good point. Daredevil’s single, right? _Lawyer fight_.”

Jen’s lips twitch as she tries not to laugh, reciting by rote, “Matt Murdock isn’t Daredevil.”

“No, no, of course not,” Patsy agrees. “I was talking about the other one.”

“You were talking about… Foggy Nelson?”

Patsy grins out into the night, red lips pulling wide around white teeth. “Uh huh. You can let him know not to worry; I can keep a secret. It’s not like I’ve ever been tempted to get a tattoo of my own alter ego or anything.”

Jen laughs until she’s breathless, and Patsy preens under the attention, wiggling her arm free enough to wrap it around Jen’s hips.

“This is why we’re friends,” she says confidently.

Jen squeezes her shoulder lightly as she catches her breath. “Yeah, it is,” she agrees, her voice soft. “And I’d fight anyone you asked me to, Patsy.”

“I won’t abuse my influence,” Patsy tells her solemnly, pretending her heart isn’t doing ridiculous things inside of her chest. “I’d only ever specifically ask you to fight an ex-husband, or maybe my landlord.”

Jen huffs. “I’m trying to tell you something, Walker; stop making jokes.”

“You want the happy-go-lucky Hellcat not to crack wise?” Patsy scoffs. “That’d be like asking Spider-Man not to do a backflip, or Monica Rambeau not to tell us about that time she was the leader of the Aven–”

“For the love of god,” Jen mutters, and all of a sudden Patsy’s a foot and a half taller, held effortlessly in the air by green hands on either side of her ribs. When Jen kisses her it’s hesitant and soft, and Patsy gasps her surprise even as she curls her hands on either side of that broad jaw and presses closer.

By the time Jen tries to pull back, Patsy’s wound around her like a koala, clinging tightly with all four limbs and making noises of protest as Jen tips her head back laughing.

“Are you done making jokes?” she asks, taunting, and Patsy scowls.

“Were you jealous of the skeezoid in the bar with his hand on my knee?” she fires back, releasing her grip on Jen’s tanktop to straighten up her hair and try to look as dignified as she can for just having had her tongue down her best friend’s throat.

Jen’s face does something funny.

“Oh my god.” Patsy covers her eyes with one hand, leaning back in the circle of Jen’s arms, confident that she won’t be dropped. “Oh my god, you _were_.”


End file.
